Admire
by awordycontradiction
Summary: And I admire him because he will. He would do that for me. He would do anything for me, if I asked. And it's not fair of me to ask, so I won't.


**Okay so I have never written in Lydia's POV.. mostly because I'm not so sure I can relate the character as much, and I really don't want to get her wrong because she really is fabulous and perfect and I really, really want to give her justice. But, I have read a lot of things saying that Lydia isn't good enough for Stiles and honestly, I agree to a certain extent. But Lydia isn't a stupid girl, I think she knows what's going on... and I just want everyone to like the two of them... because if Stiles likes her so much there needs to be a reason for it. So.. this is my take on Lydia and I never ask for comments or anything.. but I would like an opinion if I did a good job at portraying her? please and thank you :) Hope you like it. **** oh, and I said damn a lot... not sure why. I don't think I've ever heard Lydia say damn.. but it's like one of my favorite words. (yeah don't ask) and it really enhances a sentence.. I'm telling ya. Okay done now... byeeeee. **

9:: Admire

This had to be the most stupid, most idiotic, most ridiculous assignments I was ever given. Ignoring the guidance councilor's pressing argument to have all AP classes was really coming back to bite me in the ass. "Who do you admire?" I glared down at my copy of this weeks latest English assignment. I admire Marilyn Monroe. Obviously. Eleanor Roosevelt is another. But of course it couldn't be someone worth admiring. It had to be someone that I knew. Danny was writing about his gay uncle, the one who gave him the confidence to come out of the closet. Anna Lawyer from French class was writing about her Grandma that was beating breast cancer. Stiles was writing about his dad, the sheriff. That made me smile... Wait, why?

Who did I admire? Not my mom, not my dad. Not a teacher or a coach. I didn't admire anyone- except for- well, I mean there was always him. I took a glance, then quickly darted my eyes back to my own bare paper. I admired him? Just thinking the words did something funny inside me. I needed air, I needed a more creative mind, and I needed a new English teacher. One who didn't make me write a paper about someone that I admired like I was back in the seventh grade with braces and horrendous red hair. But as I picked up my pen to start plotting my outline no other name came to mind.

No one else came even close.

I moved some of my hair out of my face and glanced at him at my right. He was giving me that look again. Is it horrible to say that it's infuriating? It's one of those looks that seethe adoration, captivation, all those other 'ations' that at the moment I do not need nor deserve. He makes me feel like I can do anything. Like, I could probably fly from the intensity of that look. I could sore in the vast blue sky and get lost forever. With that look. Only that look.

I could probably sit here and count the many times he has looked at me like that, it never falters even when it should. Even when I am a bitch, and manipulative and cruel. I mean I kissed his best friend for god sake and he still wanted to dance with me at formal. Still held me in his arms like I was glass, and then, when I couldn't even have an ounce of enjoyment out of someone finally giving a damn about me he let me go gracefully, to find Jackson of all people. He was so hurt, so rattled and I knew it. I knew that I broke his heart and I didn't do a damn thing. I would never forgive myself for that. For just walking away and ignoring all signs pointing to him. Pointing to Stiles Stilinksi.

He sees no problem with the amount of faith he has in me, and I'm not too sure if he knows I know, but I can feel it in every word. The certitude vibrates through me, warming my heart and strengthening my bones. He's too good, and he'll never realize it. I'm not worth all this, I'm not worth the amount of time and energy he spends attempting to make me feel safe and happy and worth it. He makes all my neurotic and overly compensated actions seem redeemable and maybe even alluring. Well, if I had the gall to admit that. Which usually I would, but lately I can't seem to keep that same confident momentum; the one that I worked too damn hard on for so long just to be squashed by a few weird day dreams and a changed relationship status on facebook. I would not show that I'm weak. I wouldn't.

But it didn't matter, because with that stupid look full of amazement and breathtaking compassion I knew I was done for. But I am not ready for it. I mean, why on earth would he want me? Me of all people. He has so much going for him, even if I would never admit it. He is smart, maybe as smart as I think I am, and he's snarky, and it sets something off in me to be challenged the way he challenged me. He is full of ambition and sensitivity and it just makes my skin crawl because he wastes it all on me. On a girl who is never going to be ready to be actually loved. I don't want people to care about me, I don't want to need anyone. But he lets me know that it's okay with his persistence.

He always comes back, and I admire him for that.

He was the only one to check on me after the mountain lion nearly killed Jackson and I. He was the only one that even gave a damn if I was okay or not. I was so out of it that day, and I would have done things I wasn't proud of, but he respected me, he is so gentle and innocent and different that it takes my breath away and sweeps me into this whole maybe I am good enough for someone to really love me idea. I admire him for that too, for being able to put up with all that I pretend to be without losing sight of the person I really am underneath it all. He knows me so well, too well.

I admire Stiles for all that he is, because he is so transparent that everything you see is everything you get. I wish I could be that, I wish I could just stop being a coward and be who I am. Because I don't really care about dating the Lacrosse captain, or going to every single party. I actually find it all juvenile and overrated. I actually hate the notebook, but it pissed Jackson off, and was the acceptable movie amongst girls my age. Only Stiles knows that. Only Stiles knows a lot of things.

Like I know he knows that I understood him completely last week when he scored the keys to the ice rink. When he was talking about a good combination. When he was talking about us. He was giving me that look then too, it was a little uncertain and a little more reluctant but it was that same shinning look that can put me over the moon. Because even if I know it couldn't work between us, even though I know that a guy like Stiles Stilinski deserves someone better than me, someone better than any girl in Beacon Hills really, I don't want his heart to belong to someone else. I want him to still look at me that way at our ten year reunion, and I want him to always see me in all the ways I can't see myself.

And I admire him because he will. He would do that for me. He would do anything for me, if I asked.

And it's not fair of me to ask, so I won't.

I admire Stiles because he is the definition of the perfect person. He is selfless. He has done everything for Scott McCall since I can remember, and he does it without an agenda. He does it without expecting even a thank you, which more times than none, he never gets. He is so caring, his dad is probably the only person in this world that he wants and needs the approval of. I remember that crazy night in the school, when Jackson kept bothering him to call his dad and he refused. Maybe I didn't get it then, the whole situation is still really, really weird but he did it, he wanted to keep his father away so long to protect him, and I honestly don't know if I could do that, risk my life for someone else, but knowing somebody like Stiles makes it really easy to imagine myself as a better person.

And I admire him for that, too.

Class was nearly finished, words were flooding out of me, words I never once thought I could use in the same sentence as Stiles Stilinski. The boy who used to beg to walk me home from the bus stop, the kid who would always make me the most sparkly, most beautiful card in class for valentines day, the boy who liked me for the real me, and I liked him for who he was too and I pray that he never changes, and I admire that he never has. When the bell rang I quickly finished up, checking both sheets of paper before putting my things away. "Whoa, you got a lot to say." Stiles commented with a small smile. His eyes were so bright and uplifting. The look was uncanny in the light from the huge windows. "Yeah," I laughed. "Who'd you end up writing about?" He questioned innocently. I pressed my lips together as I got up, standing in front of him. I looked up into his face, so youthful, and slowly becoming more manly, and smiled. I slung my bag onto my shoulder and looked at him pointedly before answering.

"_A friend." _


End file.
